Thursday, December 01, 2005

Ad Nauseam Infinite

As some of you caught on while Kristin was filling in, I had a birthday whilst on my brief hiatus.
I celebrated number 35 in terrible form. I spent most of the day in tears or on the verge of tears, angry and despondent. I spent some of the afternoon in Nate’s principal’s office. I told him later that I had spent more time in his principal’s office this year than I had in any principal’s office in my entire 13 years of schooling. I’ve told you before I was always a sweet little girl.
My moon is a Virgo moon, which makes me a highly analytical individual, especially in emotional situations. Its as though someone played a cruel joke to give me a Pisces rising and to be in the sun of the Scorpittarius and then give me no outlet for all of those emotive signs. At least, verbally. Even in my writings though, my personal writings, I tend to be highly, highly analytical.
I tear down every situation, piece by piece. And then I tear down those pieces into pieces and those pieces into pieces, ad nauseam infinite. Then all of those pieces must be weighed against the other pieces, pros and cons, blacks, whites, and grays, the good, the bad, and the indifferent, ad nauseam infinite. Every emotion, whether I feel it, or it is projected onto me, is dissected and digested, discussed, debated, and questioned, all within myself, ad nauseam infinite.
Whether instinct or survival, when I’m under stress, I push people away. The analytical side of me just overruns everything. I have to just think. But it gets me no where to think. I run around in circles, chasing my own emotions because I have no idea what to do with them. Its like silly putty. I stick it on me and make a carbon copy of the situation or the emotion. I make that copy so I can study it. The real thing still exists, but it has been split, and the silly putty becomes the horcrux (HP fans know what I speak of).
What started all of this was AZ’s upcoming birthday, but that whole kit and kaboodle is for tomorrow’s post. Anyway, I decided I was just basically sick of pondering and wondering and running around in circles. I wrote AZ a letter over my hiatus. It is a long letter. I told him how I was feeling, all of it, and I told him I was sick of analyzing everything, so I was just going to write what I felt.
It was liberating to say, “I feel like shit. I hate my life right now. I’m depressed, moody, bitchy, and hateful,” and then allow myself to NOT analyze it. The reasons behind all of those feelings are apparent and don’t need to be discussed, debated and questioned, ad nauseam infinite.
Somewhere along the line, I’ve stuffed a whole bunch of feelings deep inside of me. Anger, pain, hatred, disappointment, broken pieces of hurt, like shards of glass, boiling and rolling beneath the surface. My own private cesspool which is slowly leaking from its confines like toxic waste, visible at times, only through my poison pen, forked tongue, and red glowing eyes.
I’m not in a good place right now. One good thing is that AZ knows, he understands without question, requiring no explanation. There's more to the picture than I put here, from every facet of my life. Its the past, the present, its an uncertain future, its relationships, and non-relationships, work, personal demons, and personal desires that could and may provide me with material for onion peeling and blogging - ad nauseam infinite.
Yes, I do still have a sense of humor, dark as it may be.